Looking at a Lamp

I look at the lamp I see the day recede
the couches chairs cushions magazines
and books that paperweight made
from the ashes of Mt St Helens
the drunk Chinese poet my daughter
brought back from Tibet's border
Crown Point and Rooster Rock
painted by Leland all the light
withdrawing returning
the small statue of Siddhartha
not so small in the dusk
from its place on the mantelpiece
the fire cold dead unbuilt
not even one ash of memory
bowls too thrown by potters
on five continents all falling
into each other as I look and look
as the light dares me to quantify it
this mystery under the floorboards
beating loudly this erstwhile friend
trapped for ever behind stones
enough water enough outside
the melodious laughing thrush
claims its nest in the cedar loudly
the claim sings out daring me
to say why it matters
daring me to admit finally
that what I see is a reflection
of a reflection

outside the bird calls out

Memories of Big Jim

I felt it after Big Jim the custodian died
the one who laughed like old King Cole
and always called a minute an hour
and a second passing in the hall
a good story moment

I worked in the AV the audio visual department
wheeled 16 mil projectors through our high school
for health and history even math on occasion
then after switching on the machine

became a shadow in the darkened classroom
watched the rows and rows of heads faceless
focused on the screen at the front on its tripod
the one that screeched as I set it up

and then when it was over
I hastily replaced the film in its canister
replaced the cover on the projector
and pushed through the door

to freedom in the empty labyrinth
as the teacher said loudly Okay class
take out your books and turn
to page 1963

or You there what's it about
the Golden Mean
that made Walt Disney smile
or Right everybody

take out a sheet of paper
and answer the following questions—
the dreaded pop quiz—
to see who wasn't paying attention

and if I was quick to return
to my film rewinder
check for breaks
splice as needed

package up the latest
academic celluloid
I could linger by the delivery dock
and chat with Big Jim

who lost one lung
fighting in the war
sailed the seven seas
built his own house

kept chickens
told really bad jokes
and never ever kept me in the shadows
always treated me like a person

with no pop quiz at the end

Something About Pumpkins

Something about pumpkins
how they crawl across available space
far from home if allowed
tentatively one might say

their tendrils tickling teasing twirling
round an innocent stem
a downspout fitting
a length of wire on a fence line

all before the coming of the leaves
big as houses if you're a mouse
huge canopies of elegance
opening their hands to sunlight

directing rain or generally claiming
all of your backyard but that's not all
for one by one the namesake plumps
and grows swells and bells

drops of green gravity
in a network of slow spilled chaos
think of the precious years
when trust entered the bloodstream

our grandmothers and grandfathers
sensing enough to know
this patch of life must
be allowed to flourish

no wanton plunder welcome here
only careful cultivation husbandry
until the table calls out for the knife
and each world surrenders

split asunder
the precious golden orange flesh
hurried along to steamer or oven
till soft enough to bless with butter

and a crisp dry Sauvignon blanc